


Do Over

by DontCallMeShirley



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Family Feels, Gen, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeShirley/pseuds/DontCallMeShirley
Summary: Obi Wan gets a chance at a do-over.





	Do Over

 

Obi Wan Kenobi parried every blow from Darth Vader, but knew he was on borrowed time. He just had to keep it up long enough to get the twins off the Death Star.  When he sensed Luke’s presence, he smiled, turned off his weapon, and allowed Vader’s lightsaber to tear through his body as he sublimated into the Force.

 

*****

“Mister!  Wake up mister!”

The Force was a lot brighter and hotter than he had imagined.  And louder.

“Mister! Wake up!”

Wait.  Why _was_ it so hot?  And bright? Obi Wan slowly opened one eye.  Hovering anxiously above him was a small face, cast into shadows by the two suns directly behind him in the sky.

Two suns?  Two suns?! He opened his other eye, and noticed the golden halo surrounding the boy’s head.  He cleverly deduced that it was the gleam of the suns on blond hair…

“Luke?” he gasped.  Why was Luke in the Force with him?  Surely he hadn’t died too? And why did the Force look like Tatooine?

“The name’s not Luke.  It’s Anakin. And you need to get up mister, or you’ll die.  Come on!” said the boy.

This wasn’t possible.  “I’m going to faint,” Obi Wan announced firmly, and proceeded to do so.

*****

 

He woke up again to a set of small hands shaking him.

“GET UP GET UP GET UP! I can’t carry you, and you’ll die if you stay here!” hollered the boy.  

Obi Wan was completely disoriented.  Hadn’t he died? And joined the Force? Was this just a manifestation of the Force?  

“Mister!  Please!” the child sounded nearly hysterical.  

Obi Wan opened his eyes again.  There were still two suns. There was still burning sand.  It sure all felt and looked real. “Anakin?” he asked, tentatively.

“You’re awake!” the child’s relief was palpable. “Can you get up?  We’re all the way out in the Maghreb...I felt...I had to...I knew I had to come out here.  Do you have a ride? I don’t see anything, did you have an eopie?”

This Anakin talked nonstop like his...like his old pupil had done as a child.  The Force must be teaching him another lesson before he could finish his passage.  Yes, that was it. Another lesson. Qui Gon hadn’t mentioned a Force purgatory, but why not.  When was anything ever simple?

“Er...I’m not sure how I came to be out here,” he said, unsure of how to proceed.  “Perhaps I hit my head.” He looked around at the arid landscape. He wasn’t familiar with this part of Tatooine, he’d spent most of his exile by the Dune Sea.

Anakin had trotted around behind him at that point, and was pushing him up into a sitting position.  Then he came around to face him again, and pulled on his hand to get him to stand. Anakin’s hands were strong and calloused already.  Obi Wan drank him in. He looked younger than he remembered from their early apprenticeship, but his presence in the Force was unmistakable.

“Do you have any water mister?  I only have a little, I didn’t expect to come so far.  But you can share it…”

Obi Wan felt tears prick his eyes.  Why was he being reminded of Anakin’s selflessness as a child, before he was warped ( _by him by the jedi by palpatine_ )?  Wasn’t he supposed to let go of all his regrets?  He stood meekly and allowed the child to tow him back to civilization, staring at him all the while.  

He might as well rip off the bacta patch.  “Anakin, did you say? Do you have a last name?” he asked.

“Skywalker,” was the prompt reply.  He looked up at Obi Wan curiously. “And what’s your name, mister?”

Obi Wan swallowed.  “Ben. Ben Kenobi.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Anakin Skywalker.  No need to shake hands, as Anakin still held Obi Wan’s firmly in his grasp.

Obi Wan was completely confused but figured all would be revealed in time.  Everything sure felt real...the hot wind, the sweat down his back, the rocks under his feet.  Even Anakin’s hand in his. However, his joints felt good and his gait was quicker than it had been in some time, which he knew wasn’t right. Also, he was sure he had died--he had felt Vader’s lightsaber slicing through him.  He decided to put all the questions out of his mind, and just focus on the moment. And in this moment, he was with Anakin--and a very young Anakin at that--however unlikely the scenario appeared to be. An Anakin who was completely unsurprised by him, as though he’d just been waiting for him to arrive.

Obi Wan allowed himself the pleasure of listening to Anakin prattle the whole way into Mos Espa, about everything from engine repair to salvage to his mom’s stew she was making for dinner. While he listened, he took stock of himself.  No lightsaber--no surprise, he supposed, he hadn’t carried one in decades. Rough loose-weave clothes and robe. Boots. No money, no communicator.

Obi Wan had avoided Mos Espa to the best of his ability while living on Tatooine, but he’d still been a few times.  He had even gone by Anakin’s old home, on one memorable trip when he’d been feeling especially masochistic. So he recognized the house as they approached it.

Anakin dropped Obi Wan’s hand and rushed inside.  “Mom! Mom! I found a man out in the desert! He needs help!”

Shmi came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.  She looked both mildly appalled and completely unsurprised.

Obi Wan put on his best negotiator face and held out his hand.  “I beg your pardon ma’am. Your son found me out in the desert, unconscious.  I’m afraid I have no idea how I came to be out there. A blow to the head, perhaps...”

Shmi took his hand to shake it.  “Shmi Skywalker,” she said, with a patient smile.

“Ben Kenobi,” he said.  He could feel her exasperation with Anakin, and a great maternal warmth, mixed with a bit of apprehension toward himself.  She’d be a fool if she wasn’t cautious. Even if this was just a Force vision….

He realized his hood was still up, so he lowered it and raked his hand through his hair.  His thick, longish hair? He ran his hand through it again. Thick. Longish. This made no more sense than anything else he was experiencing. Whatever.  He would throw himself into the experience, and see where it took him.

He ran his hand through his hair again.  He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Umm, is it okay if I use the fresher?” he asked.

“It’s right over there, Ben,” Anakin said, pointing him in the right direction.

Obi Wan walked briskly to the fresher and shut the door.  He looked in the mirror. He looked again. What. The. Kark. He was young--really young.  Early 20s, he was guessing. Where was his beard? What kind of Force vision was this? At this age he had been a padawan, and had had that ridiculous haircut.  He’d never looked like this in his life. He closed his eyes. He opened them again. He was still young. He’d grown his hair out after he’d become a knight, but he’d had a beard too.  He leaned back against the wall.

Focus Kenobi!  What was he supposed to be learning here?  And why did he need to be young to do it? He took some deep breaths and calmed down. The situation was unsettling, but he’d been in lots of unsettling situations.  His mind must have conjured this scenario somehow. So, he would just have to figure out why. And that couldn’t happen while he was locked in the fresher.

He emerged, but his brain was in such a fog that he couldn’t think of much to say.  So he quietly helped Shmi with dinner and clean up. Afterward Anakin showed him a droid head he was building (C-3PO?), and he managed to make some helpful suggestions.  He was no less bewildered at the end of the evening, but the gentle pace of family life, and their easy acceptance of him, soothed his soul. When they realized he had no transportation and no money and no recollection of how he’d come to be out in the desert in the first place, they gave him Anakin’s room to sleep in, while Anakin went to Shmi’s room.

He was emotionally and physically exhausted, but he sank into a light meditation before going to sleep.  The Force felt light, clean, like it hadn’t in decades. Probably because he was part of it now, he decided.

He laid down on the bed and fell asleep far more quickly than he expected to.

*****

 

When Obi Wan awoke the next morning he had no idea where he was.  Then he remembered the strange events of the previous day, and he groaned and put his hands over his face.  

Anakin immediately popped his head in.  “You’re awake! Good! We have to go to Wattoo’s, you can stay here if you want, or try to go home.  Do you remember your home?”

Obi Wan stared at him from between his fingers.  Home. Yes. What in the Force was going on? He wondered if his hut was there and uninhabited.  He supposed he could go back there… But why was he experiencing this manifestation of the Force then?  Since Anakin had found him, there must be something about Anakin as a young boy that he needed to work through before he could--well, advance, he supposed.  He should probably stay with Anakin--and Shmi--and try to figure out what it was. Then he could move on, and help Luke, like he was supposed to.

Anakin was still talking, of course.

“I bet you’re hungry Ben, come on, come have breakfast, do you like oatmeal? That’s all we have, I hope you like it,” he said.

Obi Wan swung his legs off the bed and stood up.  He ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Anything you have is fine.  It’s kind of you to share with me.” Anakin beamed. Obi Wan could feel their long dormant bond flaring. He put up his shields to prevent the connection from reforming.

As he sat at the table, eating, he thought about how little they had and how his being here was taking away their reserves.  Maybe part of his time here was to help them. He looked at Anakin and Shmi, sitting across from him. They didn’t have easy lives--and they had a stranger in their house, which must be at least a little uncomfortable--but they felt content.  Anakin felt especially calm, for him. As Obi Wan watched him, he thought again how young he looked.

“How old are you, Anakin?” he asked, suddenly.  

“I’m almost eight!” he said excitedly.  “My birthday is in a few weeks!”

“Ah,” said Obi Wan, wondering why he was experiencing a point in time when he hadn’t even known Anakin.  “How exciting. Er, what is today’s date, if you don’t mind? I’m afraid that blow to my head has left me with some memory lapses.”

“It’s Maris 29, 1353,” said Shmi, giving Obi Wan a worried look.  “Is your head bothering you? You should go see a healer,” she said.  Then she looked at him more closely. “Ben? Are you okay? Ben?”

Obi Wan just stared at her, blood draining from his face.  He did some quick mental calculations converting Tatooine dates to Coruscant dates and realized that it was two years before they found Anakin the first time. _The first time?_ Was it possible...no.  Absolutely not. This was just Force purgatory.  That was it. Some sort of Force purgatory...that Qui Gon had not mentioned when helping him learn to become a Force Ghost? And why wasn’t he blue?  And why was he feeling the grit of the sand that crept everywhere on this planet? And why was he tasting the bland nuttiness of the oatmeal? And why was he interacting with Anakin two years before he’d ever met him?  What would he gain from that? And he’d never even met Shmi! Was he..had he...had he traveled back in time?

“I’m going to faint,” he announced firmly for the second time in as many days.  And he proceeded to do so.

 

******

When he awoke this time he was on the floor with a cold pack on his forehead, and Shmi sitting nearby.  Oh no. Shmi. That meant he wasn’t dreaming. He wanted to curl into a ball and rock, but that would be highly unproductive.

“Ben? Oh good, you’re awake!” her relief was heavy in the Force.  “I sent Anakin for the healer, but they’re in the middle of another case. So I told him to hurry on to Wattoo’s, and I would meet him there later.” She didn’t finish the thought--they could be in trouble for being late.  He could feel her worry, for him, for Anakin, for herself. Obi Wan sat up and handed her the cold pack.

“Shmi, I’ve inconvenienced you enough.  I--I just need to rest today. I’ll be better tomorrow, I’m sure,” he said.  He wanted to offer to leave, but he didn’t know where to go. He wasn’t sure why he was here.  He didn’t know jack about time travel. Was his younger self in the galaxy too, or had he displaced him when he came back?  Nope, that thought hurt his brain. He’d have to think about that some other time. Like never. Never sounded good.

Shmi looked unconvinced, but as she really had no choice she got up, instructed him to spend the day lying down, and left.

He did lay there quietly for awhile, thinking again about how he must be draining their resources, and how the Force should have provided him with some money. Then he thought about how he could go about getting money.  Then he sighed and sat up. He’d been avoiding it, but he better meditate. Maybe he would be able to get some answers. Some answers that did not involve him reliving his life. He did NOT want to--he could not--he couldn’t bear it. Not a second time.

But--who said things had to be the same?

Faint of heart never won fair lady, as the saying goes. He had faced so much.  He could face more.

Breathe in.  Breathe out. Breathe in.  Breathe out.

The Force was definitely lighter.  He expanded his connection outside the walls of the cozy home, through the streets of Mos Espa, across Tatooine.  Then he dove deep.

The Force was never simple and it never gave yes or no answers.  But it did show him that he was indeed in the past. What it was maddeningly silent on were the reasons why.

He emerged from his meditation and went to Anakin’s room to lay on the bed. He examined the cracks in the plaster ceiling.  That one to the right looked like a bantha, he decided.

Was it too late to warn the Jedi about Palpatine?  He thought about that longingly, but came to the reluctant conclusion that if the Force wanted him to warn the Jedi, it would have plunked him down in the middle of the Temple.  And oh, the questions he would have endured! They wouldn’t have believed him. They didn’t know this version of him. They’d barely believed the Sith had returned when they saw it with their own eyes.  

No, the Force hadn’t sent him to the Temple. It had sent him to Tatooine.  To Anakin. Maybe the Force didn’t care about Palpatine or the Jedi. It only cared about Anakin.  No, he knew that wasn’t true. But maybe, just maybe, doing something with or for Anakin at this stage would help everyone.  

His stomach growled loudly, making him smile.  Young bodies need more food, he remembered. He sat up and got out of bed.  He’d had an idea.

 

********

 

Getting money on Tatooine was easy if you knew where to go for a game of sabacc.  He guiltily mind tricked a trader into giving him some seed money, which he was able to turn into a decent haul over the course of a couple of hours.  He slipped the man’s money back into his pocket, with a couple extra wupiupi to make up for the rough mental handling.

Whistling, he bought some premade dinners at a shop in town, and headed toward Wattoo’s to meet Shmi and Anakin.  

Anakin was thrilled to see him, and even more thrilled to see the take-out, which they could never afford.  Shmi was pleased to see him out and about, but she was also suspicious. She was no one’s fool. She gave him a hard stare and he squirmed.

“I didn’t have much money on me,” he explained, when they were back home and seated around the table.  “But I got lucky at a game of sabacc this afternoon, and wanted to repay you for your hospitality.”

“That’s very kind of you Ben,” she said, “but you shouldn’t waste your money on us.”  She clearly wasn’t a big fan of gambling. He bet there was more to _that_ story.  Bet. heh heh.

Anakin’s head was swiveling between the two of them, looking worried.  He’d stopped eating as he watched them.

Obi Wan smiled at him reassuringly before turning his attention back to Shmi.  “Please never think anything I do for you is a waste. Anakin saved my life, and you all have taken me in and shown me every hospitality. I believe we were brought together for a reason.”

He chewed thoughtfully for a minute before continuing.  “I’m not exactly sure why, but I do know everything will be revealed in time.”

Later that night, he settled down to meditate.  Shmi might not be a fan of gambling, but it was the best way to make quick money on this planet, and he was going to need money if he was going to help them out. He couldn’t let himself get caught doing anything that angered the Hutts though. And surely he wasn’t just supposed to earn extra money for them.  Was he here to start teaching Anakin about the Force early? Was he here to…

Why hadn’t he thought of this before?  He must be here to free Anakin. No, Anakin and Shmi.  Anakin AND Shmi. They both needed to be freed. But that was going to take a whole lot more money than he’d be able to come up with at the sabacc table without drawing Jabba’s attention.  

The Force was pleasantly noncommittal that night, as usual.  He’d have to come up with his own answers.

******

 

Obi Wan got what money he thought he safely could from the Mos Espa gaming tables over the next several weeks. He won enough to buy a speeder bike for himself and a sensor package that Anakin wanted for his droid. They celebrated his birthday in fine style, with a roast bantha feast and even eopie cream pie for desert.  Anakin had begun filling out over the past few weeks now that more food was available.

Shmi pulled him aside one night after Anakin had gone to bed, clearly looking for some answers.

“You have been so kind, helping us,” she began.  He could hear all the things she wanted to say and ask, but was having a hard time doing so.  

“Why?” she finally said.

“I know it makes no sense to you,” he said, kindly.  He’d thought hard about how to explain it, and figured sticking to the truth as much as possible, without being so honest that it became unbelievable, was his best path.

“I am a Force user. I believe that’s why your son sensed me lost in the desert. He is also very strong in the Force.”

“Are you a Jedi?” she asked, confused.  She’d seen he had no lightsaber, and that was the most identifying part of a Jedi for most people.

“No,” he said, more abruptly than he intended, swallowing down the hurt.  He wasn’t a Jedi here, and the order had been gone for so long before he died.  

He went on, more gently.  “I don’t know how I ended up in the desert, but I do know I was a bit at loose ends.  And now the Force is encouraging me to help Anakin, and you.”

She looked skeptical. She clearly knew Anakin had powers, but she also knew that people like him were exploited.  That everyone was exploited, here on Tatooine. She was wondering what his true motives were. How could he reassure her?

“Shmi, I don’t have an end game, except that I want to free you and Anakin.  That’s it,” he said. He also wanted to teach him to begin controlling his powers, but wasn’t sure he entirely trusted himself not to kark that up again.

She was quiet for a few minutes.  Finally, she got up to go to bed. But before she did she turned back to him.  “You’re an odd man, Ben Kenobi. You are so young, but you possess a wisdom far beyond your age.” She sighed.  “Anakin trusts you. Please don’t betray that trust.”

Obi Wan just nodded, mutely.  He had failed Anakin before. He would not do so again.    

In an effort to keep a low profile, and to give Shmi some space, Obi Wan took a few short-term gigs on some freighters.  When he returned, he tried his sabacc luck at Mos Eisley. He was slowly stockpiling his winnings, but it was slower than he’d like.

They had fallen into an easy routine when he was around. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he and Anakin helped Shmi prep meals, set the table, and clean up afterward. One night, after a particularly successful day at Mos Eisley, he was washing dishes, handing them to Anakin to put away, as Anakin talked about who would be flying in the Boonta Eve classic this year, and what their ships looked like.

Obi Wan froze.  The Boonta Eve...that was the race Anakin had won when Qui Gon was able to free him.  

He turned excitedly to Anakin, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “When is the race, Anakin?”

Anakin looked at him, puzzled, then said, “Three months.”  

Obi Wan smiled.  “Anakin, how would you like to help me build a ship so I can race? Think we can do it?”

Anakin’s face lit up.  “Wizard!!!” he yelled, dancing around the room.  Shmi did not look so thrilled. Wattoo sometimes had Anakin race his pod, and Shmi hated that.  Obi Wan hadn’t mentioned Anakin racing though, so she kept her mouth shut.

*******

 

Obi Wan had definitely won enough money to get the parts to build a pod racer, especially when Anakin shared the parts he had been collecting to build his own racer.  Obi Wan was not a half bad mechanic, partly because he’d learned a lot from Anakin over the years. However, this Anakin was still a child, and now Obi Wan found himself teaching him things the other Anakin had taught him.  It was decidedly unnerving. The whole concept of time travel still hurt his brain, so he tried not to let himself dwell on the intricacies of it too much.

“Hydrospanner,” he said from under the pod, sticking out his hand.

“Hydrospanner,” repeated Anakin, handing it to him.

“Clamp,” said Obi Wan.

“Clamp,” repeated Anakin.

Then Anakin nudged him.  “You’re turning too much to the right.”  

Obi Wan scooted out from underneath.  “Be my guest,” he said, with a sweep of his arm, and Anakin eagerly took his place.  

The pod was coming along nicely.  Obi Wan figured it would be ready in a week or two, and then he could test it out in the Wastes.  

Anakin worked quickly, mumbling to himself.  Just as when he was a Jedi, he called effortlessly on the Force.  Obi Wan had begun encouraging him in moving meditation, the only type of meditation he’d been successful with in the past.  He didn’t teach him the Jedi ways. Anakin shouldn’t be a Jedi, he needed his family too much.

They’d begun working in tandem while they built the racer, knowing what the other needed without words. The bond reformed all on its own. One day, Anakin asked him about it.

“I know what you’re feeling.  I know when you’re around. I can feel you in here,” he said, pointing to his chest and looking quizzically at Obi Wan.  Obi Wan smiled sadly.

“Yes, we have what’s known as a Force bond,” he said.  

Anakin nodded, understanding.  “Like before,” he said, and Obi Wan stared at him sharply.  

“Do you know about before?”

“Yes. And no,” said Anakin, puzzled by this feeling, unsure how to explain it.  “But I do know we are a family. Are you--are you my father?” he asked. Obi Wan could feel his hope.

“No,” he said.  “Think of me as your brother.”

Anakin smiled. He had always wanted a brother.

********

 

The day of the race was hot and bright.  Of course every day on Tatooine was hot and bright.  Obi Wan was wondering if he should be nervous, but he wasn’t.  He knew he wasn’t the pilot Anakin was, but he was decent. And in this young body, with his well-earned wisdom and patience and experience, he felt his chances were about as good as they’d ever be.

That morning--just in case things didn’t go well--he finally sent his letter to Master Yoda through some traders he worked for periodically.  He’d started working on it after he realized he had been sent back in time. He wanted to communicate with the Jedi, but anonymously, which meant no electronic communication.  So he got himself some flimsiplast, and a pen, and started his letter. And struggled over his letter. What should he say? How could he get their attention? How much detail should he provide? Finally, he settled on this:

 

Dearest Master Yoda,

Please keep an eye on Sheev Palpatine, the senator from Naboo.  He is a darkside user. Be very careful of him, his shields are impenetrable and he is a master manipulator.

P.S. Keep an eye on Master Dooku too.  He is growing frustrated with the corruption of the senate and may possibly be easy prey for a master manipulator.

P.P.S. And keep an eye on Master Dyas.  His (accurate) visions are troubling him and he might make a very foolish decision if no one helps him.

Sincerely,

An Old Friend

 

He didn’t know if it would work, but at least he tried. He knew the letter was imbued with his Force presence, which should intrigue Yoda and get his attention.  And now he could put it out of his mind, and focus on the race.

Most people were betting on Sebulba, the Dug who usually won through skill and cheating. He was able to bet on himself in a variety of locations, disguised each time.  He didn’t try to make a direct bet with their owner, Wattoo, but Anakin did tell him that Wattoo was betting on Sebulba. That meant he was going to be out a lot of money, making it easier for Obi Wan to convince him to sell Shmi and Anakin.

He got into his pod, put on his race goggles and gave a thumbs up sign to Anakin and Shmi.

Then the race started.

Obi Wan was careful to hang in the middle of the pack at first, let the others get a little ahead and knock each other out.  He easily avoided a Nuknog whose pod has been knocked and was spinning out of control. He veered right when he sensed the Sand People up on the cliff, taking potshots at the racers.

Slowly, he moved up in the field.

By the third lap a lot of the racers had crashed.  Now was the time to make his move. He gunned the engine and overtook Sebulba, holding fast to this unexpected lead.  Sebulba tried to ram him, but he sped up even more. He easily blocked every attempt to get past him. Finally he sensed Sebulba lobbing something at his pod.  He quickly deflected it and it landed back in Sebulba’s pod. The resulting explosion nearly pulled his pod apart, and he fought the shockwaves with every bit of his strength.  Finally he got his pod under control again, and sailed through the finish line.

There were as many cheers as there were boos, but he ignored all of that, focusing only on Shmi and Anakin, who were running toward him.  They all hugged, Anakin jumping up and down as well, yelling, “You did it! You did it!”

“We did it,” he corrected.  

Wattoo pushed his way toward them.  “You!” he yelled. “You’re the one who’s been living with the Skywalkers!”

“I am,” said Obi Wan politely.  “And I’d like to buy them.”

Wattoo eyed him up.  They began their barter, with Wattoo initially saying they were far too valuable to sell. He knew they must be valuable to the man--for whatever reason.  However, Obi Wan knew how much money Wattoo had just lost. And he hadn’t been known as the Negotiator for nothing. With a combination of flattery and subtle threats, he eventually won his point.  

********

 

Even after paying Wattoo, and getting their trackers removed, he still had a decent amount of money left over.  They could all go wherever they wanted, do whatever they wanted. The sky was the limit.

 

The End

  


**Author's Note:**

> When my brother and I didn't like the way something was going, we called for a do-over. The Force decided to give Obi Wan the same opportunity.


End file.
